


Staccato

by AirgiodSLV



Series: Undone [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-12
Updated: 2004-03-12
Packaged: 2019-07-20 08:26:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16133453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: “What would you do for me?” Elijah whispers into the silence, and Dom frowns.





	Staccato

**Author's Note:**

> Dear god, someone stop me. For [](https://sophrosyne31.livejournal.com/profile)[sophrosyne31](https://sophrosyne31.livejournal.com/), because she thought I was 30 years old and British. Also because of [this](http://www.livejournal.com/users/sophrosyne31/79817.html). Tig, love. Many thanks to Brenda for the beta, kisses, and 1:00 AM grammar lessons.
> 
> Content/Warnings: s/D, consensual asphyxiation.

“What would you do for me?” Elijah whispers into the silence, and Dom frowns. Elijah’s head is bent, face hidden as he bathes the lacerations on Dom’s thigh with a damp cloth. The cuts are small, barely any blood, and what little there is has been carefully and gently cleaned away. Elijah is efficient, and doesn’t believe in using a butcher’s knife when a paper cut is just as effective. And, as Dom knows intimately, paper cuts still hurt like a bitch.

Dom hates the fact that Elijah is hiding from him, hiding _something_ , because he almost never gets like this. Elijah doesn’t need reassurances; he breathes confidence and casual control, and just thinking about the way Elijah takes charge is enough to heat Dom’s skin slowly, to restart the flame at a low burn.

“What?” he asks, and Elijah moves faster than he expected, pinning him to the mattress and rubbing peach-fuzz stubble against his throat, sharp angle of chin digging into Dom’s Adam’s apple. Dom tries to swallow and can’t, feels the skin tighten around his eyes as Elijah presses harder.

“What would you do?” Elijah repeats, and Dom answers before the urgency in Elijah’s tone can unleash itself on Dom’s body.

“Anything,” he says, and means it, because no matter what’s going on in Elijah’s head, Dom trusts him. That’s what this is about, what _they’re_ about. Without trust, they might as well give up and go home.

“Anything,” Elijah echoes, and the prickle under Dom’s skin is matched by the feeling of Elijah’s stubble rasping against his cheek. “Anything at all.” His hands stroke Dom’s skin, fingers curling to dig into the flesh betweens Dom’s ribs, and the tension in his body causes a hard, dry lump to form in Dom’s throat. “Kill for me.”

“Yes,” Dom answers without hesitation, without real thought, attention focused on bringing Elijah back from whatever dark corner of his psyche he’s wandered off to. “Elijah…”

“Die for me,” Elijah says, and Dom doesn’t even know if Elijah can hear him now, but he answers anyway.

“Yes. Please…”

“Stop breathing for me,” Elijah says, and suddenly Dom can’t speak, because Elijah is looking at him, eyes fever-bright and hard, boring into him and choking his breath. Something’s wrong, off, not quite how it’s supposed to be, and Dom is terrifyingly aware that he doesn’t have enough experience to handle it.

“Elijah…”

No more words, because Elijah’s lips are sucking them from his tongue, and bony elbows press his arms into the mattress, grinding against the soft flesh of Dom’s inner arm. He tries to pull back and realizes that there’s nowhere to go, and Elijah’s fingers dig into the pressure points of his neck, hard enough to make him freeze and wait it out, wait for the release from Elijah’s desperation and fury.

It comes suddenly, so fast that Dom has to take a moment to process the absence, and by then Elijah has retreated to the foot of the bed, eyes dark and wide and fixed on Dom. Dom finds air, takes it on a shuddered inhalation and sees Elijah swallow, gaze dropping to Dom’s throat. “I’m sorry,” Elijah whispers finally, and his eyelids drop to cover what he’s thinking, feeling, and Dom can’t stand to be shut out like this. “I can’t…I shouldn’t be around you right now. I have to…”

“Elijah,” Dom says, clear and loud, and Elijah’s gaze jerks up to meet his, flushed and guilty. Dom takes a deep breath, lets cool air fill his lungs and bolster his courage before he answers. “Yes.”

Colour tinges Elijah’s cheeks; not much, but enough that Dom can see it, can hear his breathing grow slightly erratic.

“Dom,” Elijah whispers, and then leans in, eyelashes fluttering so close that Dom can feel them catch his own. Pause, and the space of a breath, which neither of them takes. “Stop.”

Dom does. Fights the instinct that tells him to inhale, consciously stops himself from doing it. Elijah rubs against him, his face hot against Dom’s, brushing cheeks and noses and foreheads. His breathing jumps, hitches in little half-gasps that turn Dom’s body to warm liquid.

It’s starting to burn, the ache building in his chest until he has to squeeze his eyes shut to concentrate, light-headed, and this would be so much easier if Elijah were stopping him, forcing him, but he knows without needing to think about it that Elijah never would. He’s light-headed, a little dizzy, and he wonders dimly if he can actually do this until he passes out. He can feel his heart beating slower, conserving energy and reacting to the lack of oxygen in his blood as he denies it, ignores the screaming for air and life and breath and air…

“Dom,” Elijah whispers, and Dom breathes, gasps and shakes, and Elijah curves around him, murmuring and soothing. Whatever was there before is gone now, but the shadows are still hiding in Elijah’s eyes. And somehow there’s a _shift_ , and Elijah is the one shaking, gasping and curled into the hollow of Dom’s arm, face pressed hard against Dom’s shoulder, and Dom is still light-headed, but he swears he can feel tears on his skin.

And he’s lost, he’s utterly adrift, because Elijah is supposed to be the one in control and he’s not right now. Dom needs to be, and Dom isn’t quite sure how. Elijah needs words, perhaps. Dom can do that. Dom can give him words, and Elijah can tell him what to do.

“Hush,” Dom murmurs, and that isn’t the right word but it’s a start. Elijah’s choked gasps halt, break rhythm and slow until they give way to shaky breaths.

“Just hold me,” Elijah whispers, pleading beneath the command that even now doesn’t quite leave his voice. And Dom can do that, too.


End file.
